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ps 3535 
.04 R4 
1921 
Copy 1 






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Giles Publishing Co, 
Los Angeles, Cal, 



Reminiscences in Rh3?me 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 
ALICE DEWEES ROGERS 




Copyrighted 
December 1921 



L^^^ Pv-s ■>„^iu^'i, CJJ^jLO ^•;uJi^uA^^JU. 



DEC27'2I 






C1A631813 



MY NATIVE STATE 

I'd like to see my native state, 

The place where I was born; 
I'd like to hear the cattle low, 

And the rustle of the corn. 

I'd like to see the meadows 

As they used to look in spring; 
And I'd rest me in the shadows 
When the bee is on the wing. 

I'd like to ride the old cornplanter. 

As I use to do for dad; 
And I'd like to hear his banter, 

For with him I ne'er was sad. 

The wild morning glory I'd like to see, 
That used to strangle the corn, 

But then, it seemed to me — 
I wished I'd ne'er been born. 

The reason, you'll understand, 
What brought this grief to me, 

Those vines must all be pulled by hand, 
"Fore I'd rest 'neath the old maple tree. 

I e'en would see a rattle-snake, 

For them no fear I knew, 
When stretched in the sun to bake, 
I'd kill them with my shoe. 



Then I loved the v/ild prarie, 

Where the horses cows and sheep, 

Were sometimes quite contrary, 

'Fore they'd leave the grass knee deep. 

With my pony and my dog, 
I'd bring them home together; 

Little caring for the fog. 
Or for any kind of weather. 

I lay me down at night time. 

And I dream those scenes all over, 

And I'm lonesome, sometimes. 
For that timothy and clover. 

Dear old state I loved so well, 

In fetters of ice and snov/. 
In sorrov/, I left you here to dwell, 

Where flov/ers forever grov/. 

I'd have you know my native state, 

'Tis Iowa I loved so well, 
But now it is the Golden State, 

Whose glory I will tell. 

I love her beauteous hillsides, 

Her rocks piled mountain high, 
And here, no matter what betides, 
I'll live until I die. 



THE OLD IMAPLE TREE 

A maple tree grew in my father's front yard, 
And all people knew it was soft maple, not hard. 

It came from the forest 'bout a mile away, 

Where dear sister found it one day when at play. 

She tenderly lifted it out of its nook 

Where nature had planted it close to the brook. 

She carried it home with her under her arm, 
Nor allowed it to wither ere she'd reach the farm. 

The place where she'd plant it, the ground was quite hard, 
For many feet tramped it, in father's front yard. 

Yet well did she know, with water and care, 
That her tree would grow, so she planted it there. 

It grew 'till its branches and the eaves met together. 
And its leaves made us shade in the hot sunny weather. 

Yet well do I know did I return there, 

I'd not find each one in their favorite chair. 

For e'en though they loved the old maple tree, 

They've answered the call, where they wait you and me. 

E'en though they're all gone but we sisters three, 
I wish we might meet 'neath that old maple tree. 



SECRETS OF THE OLD MAIT. T50X 

Oh, the secrets I could tell, 
Of the People in the dell. 
Of their joys and of their sorrows. 
Of their past and of their morrows. 

Of the Kiddies writing home, 
Of the sorrows they have known, 
Others of the joys they meet, 
Whether home or on the street. 

Of the letters mother writes. 
When all others sleep o'nights, 
To the dear ones of the fold. 
Those she could no longer hold. 

One is to a wayward boy, 
Pent up love and hope and joy. 
How she longs to have him home. 
When no more he'll care to roam. 

Then a letter from a friend. 
Faithful to the journey's end. 
Writing of their school-girl days, 
And the change in many ways. 

Of their gladsome happy hours, 
Summer sun and shady bowers, 
How they taught in country school, 
Every child to mind the rule. 



Of the plans of lovers bold, 
Who would enter in the fold, 
Of the failures they have met. 
'Ere they won their Juliette. 

Of the castles in the air, 
Built for bonny lass so fair, 
Where he hoped with her to dwell, 
She w^ho was the village belle. 

Of the letter that she wrote, 
Telling him 'twas all a joke, 
Asking him to please forget, 
She was not quite ready yet. 

Then he plans to go away. 
Never come another day, 
He whose life she was a part, 
Took this sorely to his heart. 

And the lassy she'd forgot, 
This would spoil her pretty plot, 
So she wrote without delay, 
I had just forgot to say, 

Of my plans you are a part. 
Never, never must we part, 
I was only joking then, 
Please be here by half past ten. 



JIM AND OHAT 

My friend and I each owned a cat, 
We thought them very nice; 
I called mine Jim, she called her's Chat, 
Of course, they killed the rats and mice. 

These cats were large and white. 
Save for a spot or two. 
They often wandered in the night. 
And they knew each other, too. 

You ask me how I know. 
These cats were Avell acquainted, 
Poor Jim's face would often show 
It had been lascerated. 

So Jimmie developed a wholesome fear 
Though he was very sprightly. 
Of poor old Chat when he was near, 
He'a leave him so unsightly. 

This demon fear, it followed Jim, 
It made him O so wiley. 
He knew that cat was after him, 
And sure would get him finally. 

A climax came to Jimmie's fears 
One day when he would drink 
He saw the demon at him leer 
When he was at the brink. 

His back was bowed, his hair stood out. 
His tail was twice its usual size. 
That cat still glared at him. 
Right in his very eyes. 



He cautiously drew back, 

Too late; there was a clatter, 

No ingenuity or knack 

Could save his nerves that shatter. 

He screamed, he tore, he almost swore. 
He knew that cat had got him, 
To save the pretty coat he wore 
A battle sure was due him. 

What he saw 'neath the Ijrim 
Of that new tin pail, 
'Twas Chat, didn't he know him, 
The way he wagged his tail? 

Still Chat's teeth didn't puncture his hide, 

His face was left untorn, 

Yet from his looks you'd sure decide 

A trouncing were more easily borne. 

The sequel to this story 
Of what Jim saw and heard, 
Make only a very short story 
Is written in very few words. 

A new tin pail sat on the flooi 

Filled with water to the brim. 

The noise he heard was the trap cellar door 

The demon, the rejection of Jim. 



Often, so often as twilight came, 

Mollie would come when 1 called her name; 

And we'd sit together in the old porch swing, 
Thinking sometimes of what the day might bring. 

Sometimes we were lonely and sometimes sad, 

For our dear ones were gone, and the joys we'd had. 

But Mollie was a comforter very rare, 
With her the best I'd always share. 

If perchance she'd find me in grief. 
Her very best efforts were made for relief. 

She was most always glad to do her tricks, 

But sometimes not so, for she'd clearly say nix. 

Three tricks at one bidding she'd do with ease, 

Koll over, get her tail, stand in the corner, and sometimes sneeze. 

If I'd say Mollie please close the door, 

With her front feet she'd push v.hile her hind wallced the floor. 

She'd nod her head yes, she'd shake her head no 
Anu she always made friends wherever she'd go. 

She'd bring my rubbers from out a dark room, 
Or, if I said slipper, she'd bring them as soon. 

She'd bring my thimbJe if it dropped to the floor, 
Or my spool of thread if it rolled near the door. 



She'd carry a message, deliver it with care, 

She'd bring me the paper, she'd find it somewhere. 

E'en tho it was dank and the rain was falling. 
She'd bring that paper if she heard me calling. 

In her own little way she learned to talk, 
This is true, tho you may call it all bock. 

In a queer little way she'd wiggle her tongue, 
But she'd get that woi'd before she was done. 

I'd tell her to say mama, mama, 
Instead she'd say mala mala. 

You'll ask me then at close of day, 
Where's Mollie gone and this I'll say: 

She's waiting v/here, when the debt is paid, 
I'll meet her where she's not afraid. 

I loved this dog, I loved her well; 
Eetier than many a one can tell. 

For sne knew so well of the things I said, 
But now Ihey say little Mollie is dead. 

But this I'll deny for her life is divine. 
And all that's divine forever shall shine. 

E'en tho a machine crushed her dear little form, 
My little Mollie is safe from all harm. 

On Mollie's grave the flowers grow. 

For it's very well cared for, I'll have you know. 



KARMA 

As I sit alone at eventide, 

And watch the setting sun, 

I know 1 am nearing the final tide 

And my race is nearly run. 

I know that my efforts freely given. 
Were rendered the best I knew, 
And the gracious God in heaven 
Will require no more of you. 

As I used to toil in hardship, 

I sometimes wondered why, 

The beauteous flower of friendship, 

Should wither thus and die. 

And I sometimes also wondered. 
Why some should live at ease, 
While others in toil and hardship 
Should strive on bended knees. 

But since my life has older grown 

And more of life I've seen, 

I know they are reaping the seed they've sown, 

For this is God's law supreme. 



WELCX)ME TO THE ELKS 

The Elks are in town, those folks of renown; 
They're here by the train load on every railroad. 

They're here from all over the nation, 
Prom everywhere in creation. 

They've come to the "City of Dreaims," 
While tliey are here our life will be screams. 

Let's make them all welcome, 
Maybe here some for health come. 

What an honor to have in our midst 
Those people who do as He didst. 

Let's give them the time of their life, 
Without any friction or strife. 

Let's help them to know, our City's the place 

So when they go home they'll turn right about face, 

And bring their whole family to the "City of Dreams," 
Where, with just a few shadows, they'll find the sunbeams. 

For we've plenty of room for the right kind of people 

If they'll only come soon we'll just build them a steeple. 

If they'll only 'fess up what they've written home, 
"This place takes the cup, from here we can't roam." 

The Elks, the best people in the world, 
To you our flags are all unfurled. 

To you our homes are open, 

While you are here we'll not be miopin'. 

What I've said I know is all right, 

For since they're here the candy's turned purple and white. 

We welcome you Bill, we welcome your Jill, 

With Jack, Diok and Percill, you're welcome to all but the still. 



A BIRTHDAY OAIOE 

'Twas only a birthday cake, 

Made by fingers deft; 

And I'll say it was no fake, 

A flea couldn't live on what was left. 

'Twas made by the Bake-Rite Bakers, 
And I'm sure they have no peers, 
'Twas for a mother, of ancient Quakers, 
A present, from one oi her dears. 

Why did he have the Bake-Rite make it? 
For the mother he loves so v/ell ? 
Because he knew when they undertake it, 
A cake comes out full well. 

Of that cake a photo was made. 

As well as of his mother, 

And you'd think she was fearing a raid. 

And there never could be another. 

But well does she know, 
There will be another, 
For the Bake-Rite will grow. 
And he'll not forget his mother. 

'Twas only a birthday cake. 

Yet it brought a world of cheer, 

To the heart of mother who's wide awake. 

To the love of her children dear. 



A Cry Foi' More Police 

A little boy came to my neighbor's door, 
He was just a baby, nothing more, 
But he's come to stay, and by and by, 
He'll help his dad, we all know why. 

His dad's a policeman with a broken arm, 
Defended the people to keep them from harm, 
When some thoughtless boob, in a car passing by. 
With really no thought of danger so nigh. 

Leaned far out the window to see, 

If only he might, what conditions might be, 

When coming in contact with our brave defender. 

Came near knocking him 'neath the passing car's fender. 

They're all overworked, we all iknow why, 
We're hoping to change things by and by. 
But why sacrifice life day after day. 
While sternly refusing to raise their pay? 

Shall we wait till the babies all grow up, 
'Fore dad can drink from a better cup? 
Shall our council raise buildings to reach the sky, 
While for lack of protection the people 'must die? 

The people would know why this all must be, 
They're tired of conditions, we all can see. 
Why wait till the sweet by and by. 
Till more of the people and policemen must die? 



Tlie Jaivis Doiiiili-Xnl .>IjU'lnne. 

Oh the Jarvis dough-nut machine, 
None just like it has ever been seen. 

It turns out the doughnuts so perfectly round, 
None just like them haA^e ever been found. 

They're round and they're sweet and they're toothso 
That's why so many folks use them. 

They're made of pure stuff, 
And I know that's no bluff; 

The milk, the sugar, the eggj^, 

Why they knock you right off of your pegs. 

And I'll say without jest. 

If you'll thus treat your guest; 

He'll return to you often, 
For he'll not need a coffin; 

So long as this dough-nut machine. 
Turns out marvels so perfectly clean. 

Then away to the dough-nut machine, 
For it's products I'm certainly keen. 

Then here we go to the dough-nut shop, 
Hipety skipety, hipety hop. 



A Prayer. 

God of my father and mother, I pray, 
O gracious master, show me the way. 

Show me, O father, how to respond, 
When I feel that power from the beyond. 

May I, oh God, in some masterful way. 
May I, oh master, teach others to pray. 

Take from me, oh God, any boastful desire, 

Only help me, dear Lord, pull some from the mire. 

May I, each day, in thine own given way. 
Ask of the Father, Oh, teach me to pray. 

Give me oh God, of thy wisdom above, 
May I help others to know of thy love. 

Help them to know, that each day of this life. 
They may, if they will, live without strife. 

They may, if they will, know of thy power. 
Palling on them as a soft gentle shower. 

Filling them full of that rapturous love. 
Coming direct from the father above. 

They may share in the power and love divine. 
Thou wilt teach those, who will only incline 

An ear to the message from heaven above, 
Lord, give us all more of thy love. 



ODK TO MY ROY'S UNBORN RARY 

Baby! O baby, sweet baby of ours, 

Long have we wished you to join our glad hours; 

Long have we wished lor your prattle and kiss, 
Baby, O baby, this is sure bliss. 

Now" shall we know of the love and the joy. 

Our mother knew when she claimed her dear boy. 

Boy, or a girl, Oh what anguish to wait, 
Elither is welcome, in the home you await. 

Come then, baby dear, with your message of light, 
Cheering our home and making it bright. 

Sent us from heaven, O baby divine, 
Baby sweet baby, our love is all thine. 



Mother 

Mother, oh mother, sweet mother of mine. 
How your child longs for your love sublime. 

IVIother, oh mother, sweet mother of mine. 
None like a mother's love' ever can shine; 

Others have wooed and others have won. 
But none like thine on any tongue. 

Weary of life and weary of love. 

Such as this world holds, mother above. 

Weary of trials and failures sore. 

Dear, are you 'shamed of the child you bore? 

E'en now T hear thee sweet mother of love, 
"Wait 'til the call comes dear child, from above. 

"Just a wee bit longer. Oh then you shall know. 
The reason for all of your sorrow and woe." 

"Until then my child be patient and dear. 
At the end of the time it will all seem clear." 

None like a mother can love and forgive, 
Mother sweet mother, for thee, all I'd give. 

Standing alone at the end of the day. 
Mother, oh mother dear, show me the way. 

Often, so often, your sweet face I see. 
Showing those dear lines of love there for me. 

Patience and love so vv^ondrous there, 
Lessons for all of thy children fair. 



Our First Baby 

On the first day of August, in the year eighteen eighty-two, 
A little girl came to us in a very great adieu; 

She was O so very tiny, and not a thing did she have on, 
For her our hearts w^ere pining, so we put the garments on. 

She was our little first born and we loved her little touch, 
She came so early in the morning, she wasn't asking much. 

Just a place to sleep and plenty to eat, 
And never a yeap from our Baby so sweet. 

Then as time went on, our baby grew, 
She v/as a bonton as every one knew. 

Her eyes were blue, her complexion fair. 

And nowhere 'tis true, w^as there such curly hair. 

Now why should we shelter this tiny wee tot? 
When all of her manners she'd surely forgot. 

To disturb us so early, 'fore breakfast you see. 
To come in hurly burly, 'fore one could scarce see. 

Yet the love that we bore her, made for her a place. 
In each of our hearts, that we couldn't efface. 



THE DESERT. 

Some look on the desert as a weary road, 
Where the sand drifts mile on mile, 
While those who've known it as their abode 
They linger yet a while. 

They love that "copper colored sky," 

Where the buzzard soars aloft, 

And they listen to hear the cry. 

When the coyote slinks with his feet so soft. 

I've lived in the desert wild, 

I've felt the falling rain, 

I've seen it come in the spring time mild 

When the flowers came again. 

Alone, you say, in the desert lands 
Where your thoughts are free to play, 
Yes alone with God who understands 
The efforts you make each day. 

'Tis heaven to dwell in the desert land, 
If love be by your side, 

What sweeter than traveling hand in hand 
With Him, who is your guide. 

If you've watched the rising sun 
When the colors are pink and blue. 
If you've stood as I have done 
With nothing to mar your viev/. 

If you've looked at the setting sun 

When the colors are purple and scarlet and gray. 

You've said as I have done, 

O, what a v/onderful day. 

If ever at even-tide you've watched the shadows play 
Shadows of mountains in the clouds, 
That wondrous mirage you'd say. 
Colors my life like those in the clouds. 

If, at the end of a wonderful day, 

A day v/ell spent with God, 

In the evening you've w^atched the lightning play. 

You'd willingly say "I'm content, O God." 



MY CROCHET HOOK 

As I ply my crochet hook 

Made by brother dear, 

I fancy, 'tis almost like a book 

It brings me sorrow and brings me cheer. 

'Twas made in the dear old home. 
Perhaps, neath the old maple tree, 
And there while he shaped the bone, 
I know he was thinking of me. 

'Twas made long years ago. 

When he and I were young. 

And he missed me then I know. 

From the Cottonwood grove where the leaves we strung. 

As my fingers ply that piece of bone, 

I can almost hear his voice, 

Al, we'd better go bring the cows all home, 

And away o'er the hills rejoice. 

Together we trudged o'er the prairie hills, 
He and I in our bare feet then. 
Little we thought of the future ills. 
Little we thought of the time when 

Our own dear kiddies 

Would tread those hills 

Kis little girl in her middies, 

And mine in her curls and frills. 

Little we knew of the pain and sorrow 
Hidden in the years to come. 
Little I know even now of the morrow 
Only waiting 'till He says come. 

Trying each day to lighten some burden, 

^■triving to do no wrong. 

Longing to help some brother 

Who has labored the v*^hole day long. 



TWIIilGHT 

When twilight steals from the setting sun 
And all things know that the day is done. 
When artists with touch and power of will, 
Transform nature with wondrous skill, 

When kine from the meadows v/andering go, 
And the voice of the shepherd is soft and low. 
When birds respond to the call of love. 
And all nature is hushed by the power above, 

'Tis then the spirits of other worlds. 
Come close to us and our thot unfurls 
'Tis then God calls each soul to be 
At one with Him thru eternity. 



9J5' 9J9 <?!? 

When I watch the setting sun, 

As he dips in all his glory 
My thoughts are of the one 

Who's the source of "the Christmas story. 



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